


Feelings Jam

by a7hena



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 13:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a7hena/pseuds/a7hena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the first Homestuck thing I ever wrote. It is quite outdated by now. I don't know who Slick is talking to. Takes place after Cascade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feelings Jam

it aint a secret that droog was one of my romantic partners. moirails, if youre askin. if you werent… i don’t give a fuck; im tellin my story anyway.

they say moirallegiance is just a troll construct, but i dunno, i think those trolls were onto something. its a dangerous world out there. good to have someone watch your back.

eh? “whats a moirail?” fuckin gpi i gotta explain everything. alright, listen up jerks, cause im only tellin ya this once. moirails are platonic romantic couples that have one person keeping the other from losing their shit and killing everyone, and they do something in return. simple, right? of course it is. now, may I please continue? oh, thanks so much. jerk.

to be perfectly honest (unlike that word twisting fuckstick scratch) i cant really remember when droog and i hooked up. weve always been pretty close, even back on derse. it wasnt until the creation of the midnight city that it finally became clear to us. (oh, and of course boxcars, that knowitall meddling matchmaker, was blabbing on about how it was clear to him the whole time. oh, thats so good to know, asshole. i dont suppose you could have clued us in? nah, nah, you were too busy tryin to get us to make out. fuck that. droog tasted like an ashtray.)

er… sorry. had to get that out. normally, every time i tried to give boxcars shit hed sit on me or threaten to eat me, so i had to take this opportunity to tear him a new one. but i guess thats not very sporting considering the circumstances. sorry, big guy.

alright, back to droog now. hes my second in command, he does our laundry, and hes the best fuckin moirail a guy could ask for. but heres the thing. most people think hes the one keeping me from snapping. but most people are idiots and therefore wrong. i may get angry, and i may get violent, but id never kill someone outta anger. maybe stab em a little, but nothing they couldnt deal with. if i kill someone, its cause i planned to. droog, on the other hand, has the shortest damn fuse. give him a funny look and hell have you begging for mercy. scuff his shoes and, well, i just hope youve got your last rites in order. for this most part, this is okay. we are in the business of killing, after all. eh, sorry. were in the business. youll have to excuse me if i keep switching tenses. its still kinda hard to get used to… im rambling. uh… so its normally not a problem if droog wastes a few punks, but yknow, there are just some people you dont wanna piss off. then i gotta rein him in.

so what the fuck does droog do for me? technically, not a gpidamn thing. i keep him because… because… fuck… okay, the thing is… ugh, do I really gotta do this? well, since ive dragged you this far, may as well see it through.

ive been having these…ugh… really weird dreams. they keep messin with my head and keep me from getting any decent sleep. yeah, you heard me. im a feared gangster and im havin fucking nightmares. well, before you get any smartass ideas, these aint normal nightmares. not like im running from monsters or any pussy thing like that. nah, im the monster. or something. what do you call a winged, dogheaded, onearmed killing machine?

hey, that sounds like the start of a joke. “what do you call a winged, dogheaded, onearmed killing machine? you him an ambulance, cause youre about to deal some serious damage to the creep.” wait no that was terrible. okay, “you call him whatever he wants to be called” no that sounds stupid wait why the fuck am i thinking about this.

so yeah, in my dreams, im this dog monster and im going around killing everyone and destroying everything. first time i had this dream, it was pretty sweet. like i was getting something outta my system. cathartic, i guess youd call it. but then it just kept happening. like fuckin stairs. and i may get violent on occasion, but complete and total annihilation just aint my thing. come on, i fuckin built the midnight city, you think id want to see anything happen to her? course not, and especially not at my own hands. hand. this is where droog comes in. he tells me that im not gonna fly off the deep end, and for some crazy reason, i believe him. i guess you could say he gives me peace of mind.

gave.

it feels like its been forever since i last saw him, since i last saw them, but i still cant get used to it. sometimes i sorta trick myself into thinking theyre still around. ms. paint says its my way of working through something. if shes right, then that “something” is guilt. its my fuckin fault theyre gone. if i hadnt been so dead set on finding out the felts secrets, everything would be as it was. but nooo, i couldnt leave well enough alone.

boxcars and deuce were a little easier to let go. i never exactly needed them. the midnight crew? sure, we needed them. but me, personally, no. they were good guys, but when things got hairy, i wouldnt hesitate to drop their asses. and theyd probably do the same for me. and thats just how I like it. shows theyve got a good sense of self-preservation. you need that if youre gonna be in a badass crew like mine.

droogs another story. i hate to admit to needing another person just to help me function, but theres really no point denying it. and now, hes gone, thanks to confusing time shit.

after that, it all became a booze and licorice induced haze. i felt like i was losing control, so i went to see doc scratch. doc fucking scratch of all people. still not sure why. maybe i thought, with his supposed omniscience, he could give me some advice. or maybe I just wanted to kick his soft puppet ass. but he had other plans. he handed me a gun and told me to kill this huge bitch named snowman. she and i have…an interesting history. thing is, killing her would destroy the universe. to this day…i don’t know if i did it because id lost practically everything, or because droog wasn’t there to stop me. could be both.

you always said everything would be fine. you picked a helluva time to be wrong.

i thought there would be a bright spot to all this. after going through everything, id finally feel the sweet embrace of oblivion. and for a second, everything went dark.

but the next thing i knew, i was lying in bed in an unfamiliar room with some prospitian broad doting on me. this asshole who calls himself hussie saved me just before the universe crapped itself out. apparently he saved the prospitian, that would be ms. paint, in a similar fashion. yeah, i know i should be more appreciative, but most days i seriously wish he wouldnt have bothered. he doesnt know or care what i think, anyway. hes always off doing his own thing.

ms. paint, on the other hand, is pretty much always around. a guy cant take a leak without her hovering nearby. crazily enough, it doesnt get on my nerves. its like… like i feel shes always welcome.

what do i think of her?

well, im not sure what to think. shes a sweet lady, ill give her that. but its kinda weird being around her, cause it seems like she always knows what im feeling. whatd boxcars call that? oh right. hed say shes an “empath.” i don’t know if i like someone probing my psyche like that, but at least shes nonjudgmental. shes a good listener, too. just sits there, all pleasant like with this wideeyed, calm look on her face while i spill my guts. she doesnt try to tell me its okay. she doesnt tell me to get over it. she just listens. and sometimes…

…im sorry droog. im so sorry. but its been so long, and i was still having those damn dreams, and i let her sh—fuck i cant even say it.

no. no no no i cant think about romance this soon. its not right.

not that i have any clue what is right. i havent felt much drive to do anything lately—not that i could if i wanted to, im pretty much confined to this bed—so most days i just lie there and think. sometimes ill get into a funk, and ill feel arms gently draped around my neck. for a second, i fool myself into thinking theyre long and slender, clothed in the finest fabric, with manicured nails and far too many rings but if i say anything hell knock my teeth out…but then i snap back into reality and find myself entwined in short, pudgy arms ending in stubbyfingered, calloused yet feminine hands.

she pulls away from me, and, shit, maybe im becoming an empath now, because its blatantly clear what she wants me to know. she wants me to know that everything will be fine, and she gives me a small smile.

im not entirely sure i believe her, but its good to know theres still hope.

so i smile back.


End file.
